This story is about me. Only me. It’s about my ego and insecurities and fears and needs.
I typically write what I think might be useful for others to know and understand, but this is different. It’s more like a diary entry. A confessional. A cry of frustration.
It’s the sort of thing I would address to a wife or partner or trusted companion — if I had a woman in that role. It’s my half of a conversation which I would need to have with someone who loved me and believed in me and was permanently a part of my life.
So this probably isn’t for you.
I’m struggling right now. In many ways, things are the best in my life that they’ve been for at least 20 years. I have stability and purpose again. I know where I want to go. I’m more clear about my values and my priorities than I’ve ever been in my life.
But I’m struggling with the gap between how things ought to be and the reality I see in front of me. And that gap terrifies me — because nobody lives forever.

Why am I shocked that a friend’s happy news makes me feel envy?
Hank Williams story reminds me I’ve always wanted to be a star
Kitten outsmarted me for weeks, but Alex finally joined our family
Ghost from my past haunts me, but leaves me without answers
Who needs due process? Kangaroo court gets power to kill citizens
What if Jesus was serious about commands he gave his followers?
Being in love shows us who we can choose to be at our very best
New command from the French state: ‘Thou shalt not say Facebook or Twitter on TV or radio’
Why do presidents and candidates bother to release tax returns?